


King of Hearts

by jencsi



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:41:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24423685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jencsi/pseuds/jencsi
Summary: McKeen was the reason Nick "quit" in the season 12 finale, but what if something else drove him to quitting?
Relationships: Julie "Finn" Finlay/Nick Stokes
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	King of Hearts

“I gotta get some air, before I rip your head off” he snarled the pathetic threat to McKeen before abandoning the metal chair and exiting the interrogation room. He paced outside the room for a full ten seconds before she appeared by his side. 

“I should have killed him when I had the chance” he snapped, glaring into the interrogation room. 

“Don’t say that,” she chastises him. 

“If I had done it, he wouldn’t be here torturing us right now.” Nick reminds her. 

“But someone else could have,” Finn says “McKeen has people all over this place.” 

“But if he was dead, they would have no power, no motive, nothing.” Nick continues. 

“Don’t let him get to you,” she says softly, reaching for his hand to hold, hers is so soft and smooth versus his which is rough and cracked and ready for a fight. 

She knows that feeling, she knows what it’s like to be fired up and anxious, but she knows it gets her in trouble and if she can get him to settle and not make the same mistake she did, that’s a win. 

He sighs, loving how she holds his hand, loving how she cares, how she wants him to calm down and sure enough, his heart stops pounding. Her eyes hold a gaze of concern and love, something he’s not used to but is starting to like. 

“I have to finish some work for Russell,” she says now, bringing his hand up to her cheek and nuzzling against it “will you call me if you need anything?” 

“Yeah,” he says, feeling drowsy, lured in by her affections and sleepy mood. 

“Promise me you’ll stay safe?” she asks of him now. 

Despite his reckless and dangerous past, and even with the fears of unknowns in this case, he wants to be better because of her and for her, she’s giving him a reason to live. So it’s not difficult to look her in the eye and say with genuine affection and care

“I promise” 

~Two hours later~ 

“I quit,” the words echoed in his own head, shocking his system and yet, it never felt more liberating. He vacated the breakroom, leaving behind a shocked Greg and Sara as he stormed off. How dare this world keep throwing things at him, loss, grief, agony, corruption, the same corruption that cost Warrick his life. His best friend was taken from him and now, he didn’t want to stick around and lose someone else to McKeen and his games. Follow the evidence, Grissom would say. Well he wasn’t here anymore and to be quite frank, maybe the man was more of a naive fool than he wanted to admit. Sometimes bad things happened for no reason and he was tired of being the victim. 

He carried himself to his car, slamming the door shut and stewing inside, blood boiling. He couldn’t bring himself to drive away yet, nor could he work up any nerve to go back in. He was stuck. Her loud hearty laughter snapped him out of his daydream as he looked around the parking lot, wondering if he was just imagining it. A scan of the parking lot yielded him her location, not too far off in the distance, walking casually with Detective Crenshaw, Moreno’s day shift partner. Crenshaw had his arm around her, they were walking and laughing, acting as if it were a Friday night, cool, smooth, casual. Nick watched them head towards Crenshaw's car, the man kept his arm around her, hand resting on her hip, possessive in his hold. 

Now Nick’s blood really began to boil. What game was she playing? Wasn’t she not just comforting him? Now she was galavanting off with Crenshaw. Where was the woman who held his hand and made him feel like he was flying? Now it was apparent he was just another notch on her bedpost. He felt the urge to race after them and pull her away, demanding an explanation for her infidelity but he couldn’t because they never really officially said they were together but he was hoping to soon. Now that fantasy had been snatched from him just like everything else he cared about. He slammed his palms on the steering wheel before starting the car and driving off, making the tires squeal as he peeled out of the parking lot, escaping at last. 

It had been a while since he had been this drunk but it was a high, a rush, even if he was stumbling as he walked and slurring his words. Nothing numbed his pain more than disassociating from the world. The darkness knew him well. Forget his job, his car, the gun attached to his hip. His brain knew well enough to not shoot it off but the empty beer bottle made great projectiles at the closed storefront windows. It didn’t surprise him when the cops showed up. His own brute strength at fighting them off was what surprised him in the moment, he didn’t know his own strength sometimes. The bruises and split lip and blood would be a problem in the harsh light of day but as he sat against the concrete wall of the holding cell, nothing else mattered. His vision was blurry as he squinted to make out the shape and identity of the person standing in front of him. 

“We’ve been calling you,” Sara says coolly to him. 

“I quit remember,” he says in a hoarse voice he doesn’t recognize. 

“They got Russell’s granddaughter Katie,” Sara relays the horrors of the night to him “Ecklie got shot, Morgan’s with him at the hospital, we need you.”

“Well I’m a little busy tonight,” Nick lies as he waves one arm around the empty dark cold cell. 

“They got Finn,” Sara delivers the last blow. 

Nick scoffs, slouching against the wall, caring the least about this information. 

“Come on,” Sara says “I know you care about her, we all figured it out, she needs you.”

“She doesn’t give a damn about me,” Nick snaps “she’s off with Crenshaw tonight, I saw them being all cozy in the parking lot, you know how she is, bouncing from guy to guy.”

Sara steps closer to him and says “You’re an idiot,” bluntly. 

Nick has no answer to her harsh statement. 

“Did it ever occur to you that she was doing that on purpose?” Sara informs him “Crenshaw worked under McKeen in the past, wouldn’t it have been smart for Russell to send a tail on him tonight, and who better than Finn?” 

Sobering up now, Nick realized he was indeed an idiot. Why didn’t he think of that? He jumped to the worst conclusion and now she was in trouble. 

“Where is she?” he demands to know, forcing himself to sit up even if his head spins. 

“We don’t know,” Sara sighs sadly. 

“Where have you been?” she howls to him when he is finally reunited with her. They are both bruised and bloody and sore, two peas in a pod violently thrown about. 

“Uh taking care of some stuff.” he lies trying to hide the split lip and bruises from her but hers are just as visible, purple, red and raw. 

“They got you too?” she questions his injuries. 

“Not exactly,” he admits and fesses up to the drunken fight. 

Her eyes shine with tears as she asks desperately, “Why?” 

“I quit,” he confesses, “I had enough of this place and the corruption and bull shit and I was going home but then, I saw you in the parking lot with Crenshaw and I thought, well, you and I had a good thing going even though we never officially said it and when I saw him with you, I lost it.” 

Her bottom lip trembles as she struggles to process what he is telling her. At the same time, she starts to smile. 

“You care about me that much huh?” she tests him. 

“Well yeah,” he admits, feeling his face flush red with affection for her, a strange tingling in his stomach, smitten. 

She smiles at his declaration, also smitten, her smile unable to be hidden by those cuts and bruises. Her brightness radiates even in her agony. 

“I would never do what you thought,” she informs him, taking his hand in hers now “I had to follow Crenshaw to find Katie, he’s scum and now he’s dead.” 

“I should have known better,” he says, watching her fingers trace the lines on his palm with her bandaged hand “I’m just an idiot that’s all.” 

“You are not,” she tries to make him feel better, reaching out with her uninjured hand and touching the bruises on his face, gentle, soft, caring. 

“Take me home,” she begs him now, heart aching to be alone with him, exhausted physically and mentally. 

“It hurts,” she admits tearfully only to him in the safety and security of his bed. She’s curled up on her right side, her left one aching terribly. He lifts her shirt to examine the bruising and feels sick to his stomach because he wasn’t there to protect her from that monster Crenshaw unleashing his fury on her tiny frame. 

As difficult as it is for her to move, he encourages her to lay on her back instead, resting his hand on her stomach and gently turning her to lay flat. She winces and whines the entire time until she’s settled. He knows from previous injuries that sometimes this position makes the pain lessen. She pierces him with watery eyes again, unsure how to convey her pain other than through whimpers and sobs when she moves or tries to move. 

But he’s here. He’s not going anywhere. They have the rest of the week to themselves. To escape here and recover. To kiss away tears and pain. He holds her hand again, savoring her softness, grateful for her presence in his life. He caresses her cheek with the back of his hand, being mindful of the bruises there. She is happy to be soothed by him instead of being repulsed by Crenshaw's touch, having to fake her emotions and touch with him made her sick to her stomach. But now she had Nick, she had someone who understood her better than anyone did before. She feared losing him, which is why she made him promise to stay safe. They both were bad at keeping their promises that way. But it was going to be okay now, in the long run, she knew. Despite that reassurance, she still has to ask

“Promise me you won’t ever quit,” she asks of him “not the lab or me?”

“I promise,” he murmurs softly, nuzzling right into her neck, craving her warmth and touch, relieved to have done right by her despite this setback. 

“Promise me you’ll stop getting yourself into so much trouble,” he asks of her. 

“I’ll try,” she admits to him, knowing how trouble usually finds them in this line of work. 

That's just the answer he expects from her. He smiles from where he has been nuzzling into her neck, kissing her there, loving her content sigh. She turns her head, leaning into this affection, her breathing becoming less labored and more relaxed as the painkillers set in and start to make her go numb. As she dozes, snuggled up to him, he makes peace with the anger in his soul. There is no more dull ache in his chest, no more agony, just her, soft and sweet and loving. He finally has a reason to fight; for her, against the demons in his head, the monsters in the world, that numbness that consumed him for years lifted and replaced by that same drowsy feeling he had when she held his hand at the lab. She was the only drug or drink he needed now and what a wonderful thing it was to be; alive.


End file.
